Whoa is Me

Dear Readers:

I had the sort of week that had me knocking shoulders with people on the street without apologizing, throwing the don’t-you-even-think-about-being-friendly-to-me stares at my doorman, and losing my patience with stores displaying products without prices—admittedly a pet peeve even when I’m in a good mood. Having both this sour mood and my guilt about being in this sour mood, and by the end of the week eternally confounded at how I can be living perfectly comfortably one moment, and the next moment—because some absurd thought raises its hand and I just have to call on it—suddenly decide I have nothing good in my life… I lay in bed Friday night with my miserable self pity, bouncing around YouTube listening to Alan Watts, someone with whom I visit from time to time.

The best cries are: The ones that suddenly explode out of you, and the ones that fill you with excruciating wonder.

What a gift this man was to our world, and to my soul, on this cool Friday evening in September...